


in some sad way

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Alternating, Pining, anyways enjoy, i wrote the majority of this in 24 hours wtf, it's angst but not as angsty as most of my stuff so?, most of this takes place pre-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Good things rarely lasted.(A look into the pain of Kuroo and Daishou as they find and lose each other.)





	in some sad way

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was somewhat inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms)
> 
> im p proud of this one so i hope u guys like it!
> 
> also i apologize for the shitty summary im creatively dead rn

▼

Falling apart was a gradual process. It was not something that happened all at once.

Bits of Kuroo had started falling away when he was merely ten years old. One day the joy that lived in his eyes was there, the next it was gone. After being abused by the world one too many times, all that joy just packed up and left.

The next to go was his energy, after that his creativity.

Then finally, at the age of 12, his hope.

_You're too young to sit inside all day!_ his parents cried.

_He's a bright kid he just... lacks motivation,_ his teachers echoed one another.

_I feel like you're putting up a front_ , Kenma would say; Kuroo would just laugh nervously in response.

People saw pieces of the story, but never the whole thing. The whole story was Kuroo's to bear and Kuroo's alone.

No matter how much he shared with Kenma, it was still only a fraction of what was going on in his mind.

He didn't tell Kenma he had started living for things instead of himself.

He lived only to pet his cat one more day, to hold one more conversation with Kenma, to finally play that video game that was announced ages ago. He'd stopped living by years, and started living by days. It was exhausting, as each day ticked by, he had to find another reason to live.

Kuroo was a smart kid. He knew what was going on in his head.

_You're too young to be depressed,_ his parents brushed him off when he went to them.

Kuroo was "too young" to go to the doctor and "too old" to be "acting the way he was."

Kuroo was stuck between ages, stuck between minds. He was stuck being empty. He was stuck here, on earth, living. He was stuck.

Kuroo didn't feel like a real person. He felt like he was just existing between places, his only purpose to fill the gaps in people's lives. He was the empty space between buildings, he was the void behind his own eyes.

There were plenty of reasons why Kuroo didn't feel like a real person, but the main one was that he wasn't living for himself. He wasn't living because he actually wanted to, just because everyone else did.

He didn't enjoy being alive, not at all.

As he got ready for the first day of his second year of junior high, he stared into his empty, fake, emotionless eyes. They were just sad reminders of who he used to be. He quickly averted his eyes from the mirror and grabbed his bag. He left without saying goodbye to his parents, and walked to Kenma's house.

He rapped on Kenma's door and was immediately greeted with the younger boy's glare.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry, but if you haven't realized but I need at least 15 hours of sleep in order to be able to function." When Kenma didn't respond Kuroo filled the silence, "You excited for the first day?"

"Nope," Kenma replied, tugging his shoes on.

"I am." Lie.

Kuroo half hoped Kenma would buy the fake happiness he was putting on.

"Yeah because we all know how much you love being alive." No such luck.  

"Yeah," was all Kuroo could say in response.

They started walking.

Neither of them said anything for a while.

Kuroo didn't want Kenma to say anything. They had this conversation at least once a week. ("You can talk to me." "I don't think I can.") He wanted it to remain silent, because the things in his head were too painful to voice aloud.

Luckily, Kenma started talking about his game, and they filled the rest of the walk with pointless chatter.

When he got to his first class, he was seated next to a kid he didn't recognize from last year.

It was his advanced math class (algebra I this year) so he knew almost everyone there unless they had just transferred in, which he assumed this kid had.  

His guess was confirmed when the teacher finished taking role.

"Daishou Suguru? You must be new. Care to introduce yourself?" the teacher asked, sickeningly cheerful.

"No," Daishou said so quietly Kuroo could barely hear him.

"Are you sure?" the teacher replied with a tight smile.

"I said no," Daishou seemed calm, almost relaxed; as though he had played this battle out many times and always won.

An awkward silence stretched out. The teacher stared at Daishou, as if evaluating him. Daishou, obviously uncaring, started doodling in his notebook with a pen.

Kuroo's teacher sighed, "Okay then. Let's begin."

Kuroo witnessed the same exact exchange in the three other classes he had with Daishou. Each time, Daishou was nonchalant about the whole thing, while the teacher hid their discomfort behind a grin.

It was like Daishou's very existence got on teacher's nerves. It was as though by simply breathing he pushed buttons.

Kuroo had a theory that Daishou knew exactly what he was doing. He thought he probably did it to keep people away from him.

That was the extent of Kuroo's relationship with Daishou. Kuroo barely knew him, and didn't need to.

It wasn't until volleyball season started that Daishou became The Daishou Problem.

"Okay everyone get into groups of–" the volleyball coach quickly counted, "three," he yelled, louder than necessary. Almost instantly everyone divided into groups based on who was friends with who.

Groups were formed faster than Kuroo could blink. He didn't need to worry though; Kenma would pair up with him and...

_Who else?_

Suddenly Daishou Suguru was standing next to him, a murderous expression blazing on his face.

He shot Kuroo a glance that said, _this is more painful for me than it is for you._

Which was probably true because Kuroo couldn't care less. He had given up caring long ago. He took the things that happened to him with dull acceptance, armed with the knowledge he was probably going to be dead in 3-5 years.

After a long, boring explanation of the exercise they were going to be doing, their coach sent them off, and left, presumably to sleep in his office for the remainder of the time.

There was about five minutes of dead silence between the three, before Daishou finally said something.  

"Your hair is stupid," he said to Kuroo.

Kuroo was so confused by this statement he dropped his arms and let the ball fall to the floor. "What?" he asked, squinting.

"It looks like a wet cat died on your head."

Kuroo's confusion was only worsening when he heard Kenma snickering.

"Eh tu Brute?" Kuroo turned to Kenma, struggling to keep his face serious.

"To be honest, it kind of does," he deadpanned.

Kuroo couldn't force his grin down. He was mostly smiling because he was incredibly confused at the whole situation. It was a nervous smile, but also a happy one.

Kuroo picked up the ball and glanced at Daishou. He could've sworn he saw the flash of a smile on his face, but it was gone as quickly as it was there.

Kuroo and Kenma talked as they passed the ball back and forth, Daishou remained silent.

There was a lull in the conversation and Kuroo was letting his mind drift, barely processing the thoughts that strolled lazily through his head.

"You look like a snake," he blurted out at Daishou. He vaguely wondered if he had actually said it or just thought about saying it.

"I do not," Daishou snapped.

"Yes you do. Kenma back me up here."

"I mean... I can see it."

"Traitor," Daishou said, glaring.

"He was never on your side to begin with," Kuroo argued.

"I am neutral in this war. Frankly, I think you're both ugly."

"Kenma!" Kuroo cried dramatically. Meanwhile Daishou just cackled.

Volleyball practice ended and the three of them left together, as if it were natural.

They quickly figured out they all walked the same way. Equally as quickly, they filled the silence with words.

By the time they were halfway home Kuroo was practically shouting at Daishou, "The original Black is _leagues_ better than Black 2."

"The reason they even released a reboot is because it's _better_ than the original," Daishou shot back.

"Do you think that movies based on books are better than the books themselves then?"

"We're not talking about movies and books we're talking about video games!"

"They're basically the same exact fucking game," Kenma interjected. "Besides, all Pokemon games are Good™," he said wisely.

"Kenma! Language!" Kuroo cried.

"You swear all the time, asshole."

"You're just a child."

"You're literally one year older than me."

"Exactly! I am an adult, and you are just a mere child."

"Fuck off, Kuroo, you're ugly."

Kuroo faked shock, as though Kenma didn't call him ugly all the time, then turned to Daishou.

"This is all your fault. You come my life, teach my child to swear and call me ugly, you're a terrible influence. Isn't that right, son?" He turned to Kenma.

"Daddy."

"What the fuck."

"You called me son and I wanted to make you equally as uncomfortable."

"I'm disowning both of you," Kuroo said flatly, and started walking faster until he was way ahead of them.

Kenma and Daishou just laughed, while Kuroo turned around to glare at them, forcing down a grin.

Daishou walking with them became a daily occurrence, both to and from school.

Daishou always woke up first, and then would retrieve Kuroo, and then they both went in got Kenma, who actually woke up way before Kuroo, though refused to leave his house without someone with him.

They laughed a lot, but they all had shit going on in their heads that couldn't be voiced. It was in Kuroo's empty eyes, in Kenma's panicked words, in the fact Daishou refused to take them to his house. They were young, but not careless.

Kuroo and Kenma were waiting for Daishou at the entrance of the school, when Kenma spoke suddenly.

"You're different when you're with him."

Kuroo took a moment to work out what he meant. "How so?"

"You laugh more. You're happier."

Kuroo shrugged and thought about leaving it at that. A long silence drew out, when Kuroo finally spoke he was surprised at how sad his voice sounded. "Laughter doesn't fix everything. And neither do people."

"I know," Kenma replied, his own demons flashing through his eyes as he looked at Kuroo, "But it's a start."

"How many times do I have to start before it's over?"

Kenma remained silent.

When Daishou arrived and they started walking, Kuroo was quiet. Daishou attempted to annoy him into talking but all he could do was smile sadly.

Kuroo was tired. He was tired of feeling like this. He'd been tired of it from the beginning.

It hadn't been a big deal at first. It was a quiet, manageable sadness. There was still hope it would go away, he still had something to look towards.

But after _years_ it was still there and the end was nowhere in sight. Every time he thought he saw a way out, it was just another locked door.

He'd been stuck like this for so long he was no longer looking for the end of the sadness, he was just looking for the end.

Because really? Kuroo wasn't living, he was just alive.

He was dragging through every day as a falsity of a person. He was on autopilot, and the plane was crashing.

But there were people who wanted him alive, and that gave him the smallest shred of hope that things might get better.

So he would carry on, until he couldn't carry himself anymore.

Kuroo was halfway into the school year when everyone's walls came crumbling down.

It happened after Daishou had gotten into an actual physical fight with some kid; Kuroo and Kenma were waiting outside the offices waiting for him to get out.

"Hey, you guys are friends with that kid who gave that third year a concussion, right?" Someone called out to them.

"Yeah?" Kuroo frankly didn't like talking about difficult things, as his life was difficult enough, and he knew Kenma didn't like being around new people, so _frankly_ he wanted these people to leave.

"Don’t you know why he's in that foster home?"

Kenma almost dropped his game in surprise but remained silent. Kuroo took it in stride.

"No. Stop asking."

Kuroo's immediate plan was forget about it. If Daishou wanted them to know about it, he would've told them. So Kuroo would forget the entire thing happened and say nothing.

Unbeknownst to him, Daishou had gotten out of the office exactly thirty seconds earlier.

Kuroo turned around and saw Daishou standing in the office doorway, a mix of anger, horror, and sadness on his face.

Kuroo locked eyes with him. Silently pleading with him to drop it and not do whatever he was about to do.

Daishou held his gaze for about .4 seconds before he bolted out the door.

Kuroo glanced at Kenma. Kenma sighed, closed his game, and they started running after him.

The sad fact of the matter was that not only did Daishou have a head start, but he was faster than both of them. They quickly lost him, and Kenma refused to keep running so they had to stop.

"He's not gonna go home," Kenma pointed out.

Kuroo thought about it for a millisecond before he realized where he would probably be.

"I know where he is," he said to Kenma, and took off running.

He found Daishou in the park they passed on their way to school. He was sitting on the ground next to the koi pond even though there was a bench seven feet away.

Kuroo sat down next to him. Daishou picked up a piece of gravel and hurled it angrily into the water.

"I don't think the koi are gonna appreciate that," Kuroo joked halfheartedly, pulling out his phone to text Kenma and tell him where they were.

Daishou said nothing. They sat in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"How'd you find me?" he spoke suddenly.

"If your gonna hide somewhere maybe don't do it in the middle of a park we routinely walk by," Kuroo paused. "Plus I know you."

Daishou's face became a mask of anger, "You didn't even know I was a foster kid," he snarled.

"I didn't ask."

Daishou turned to him, confused.

"If you wanted me to know, you would've told me," Kuroo said. "I won't ask you where you came from because I don't need to know."

Kenma came and sat down beside them, careful not to interrupt the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Daishou asked quietly.

"I know you're my friend. I know you're a good person, and I know some things are painful to talk about, so I won't ask you where you came from as long as you don't want me to know. I mean, I kind of want to know, but I don't need to."

Daishou was quiet for a long time, and Kuroo realized he was crying. The three of them sat there in the quiet afternoon, staring at the koi as they swam around the pond.

Finally, Daishou took a deep shuddering breath. "Thank you."

The comfortable silence dragged on for a while when Daishou spoke again.

"I never knew my parents couldn't handle having a kid. So I wound up in foster care," he started suddenly. "I've jumped around from place to place. A lot of places, honestly. All of my families abandoned me, eventually. I'm too much to handle," he paused. "Too much. Too angry," he snarled, face pained and red from crying. Daishou sniffled, it was an odd, childlike sound that contrasted the angry expression on his face. "People can't handle me. They can't tolerate my pain. Sometimes I wish I could just cut off the parts of me that people don't like, but I don't have enough self control for that," he laughed, and it was sad and weak. "Anyways, fuck them right?"

Kuroo was silent, reeling with emotion. There was a physical ache in his chest at Daishou's words. He didn't quite know why.

"Yeah, fuck them," Kenma replied.

Kuroo didn't know what to say. There was a happy emotion in his heart. As sad as he was he loved his friends.

"Those people SUCK!" he yelled loud enough to scatter the gathering of koi.

Daishou smiled weakly and threw another piece of gravel into the pond.

"Seriously, Daishou, are you trying to feed them rocks? Because they can't eat that," Kuroo didn't like the sad expression on Daishou's face; he wanted it gone.

Daishou smiled again, a little less forced this time.

The silence faded into pointless conversation. Daishou threw stones and Kenma played his video game while Kuroo cracked jokes.

It was late in the evening when they remembered they had houses to be in and homework to do. They walked to their neighborhood in the dark, laughter hiding the pain each of them was holding. They were young and fucked up but at least they could laugh with each other.

Things were good for a while. But when Kenma started to fall apart, so did Kuroo.

Kenma started acting weird. He was quieter, more reserved, every loud noise and large crowd put an unknowable fear in his eyes.

He seemed to be fine for the most part – until one day he stepped outside his house and started screaming.

It happened instantly. He seemed fine – apprehensive, but fine. Then he took one step out onto his porch and a cry of terror instantly ripped from his lungs.

Kuroo stepped back and bumped into Daishou. Kenma dropped to his knees and screamed again.

His mother was instantly at his side, dragging him back into the house. She gave an apologetic glance to Kuroo and Daishou, but closed the door wordlessly behind her. They could still hear screaming coming from inside.

Kuroo and Daishou walked to school in silence, both reeling from the sudden, violent event that had transpired.

They were silent on the way home, too. Yet, somehow, in the silence, there was comfort.

Kenma wasn't in school for a week and three days after that. Everything felt wrong without him. Kuroo and Daishou talked, but there would be an uncomfortable lull in the conversation where Kenma would've usually made a comment.

They didn't talk about it. They avoided the topic of Kenma altogether. They were shaken by his sudden breakdown and disappearance.

Even after Kenma came back, no one talked about it. Everything went back to normal, but there was an uncomfortable skeleton in the closet that no one mentioned.

Kuroo hoped it would be the end of it all. He hoped Kenma would be okay. He hoped nothing more would come of it.

He hoped, but he knew better.    

It was midnight when Kenma knocked feverishly on Kuroo's window. He was up, as he always was. Kenma, however, usually wasn't.

Kuroo went to the window opened it, and with little difficulty, popped the screen out.

When he saw Kenma he felt an instant sensation of wrongness.

Kenma was crying, his breath was rapid, bordering on hyperventilating; his palms were bloody where he was digging his nails in, and his knuckles looked scraped and bruised.

"Kenma-" Kuroo started, but Kenma cut him off by pointing at Daishou's house, and then towards the park.

Kuroo nodded, not knowing what else to do, and then dropped out his window.

Getting to Daishou, however, was much more difficult, as he was on the second floor. There was a tree placed almost too conveniently by his window, but was, unfortunately, impossible to climb.

Kenma had, in fact, forgot that they lived in an age of cell phones, so the problem was easily solved by sending Daishou a text.

Daishou was out the door almost 45 seconds later, shutting it behind him quietly as to not wake his foster family.

They walked wordlessly to the park, and sat down on the bench by the pond.

As soon as they sat down Kenma's quiet crying turned into ragged, gasping sobs.

He cried like that for thirty minutes, and Kuroo and Daishou sat and watched. They talked to each other while Kenma sobbed, holding light, easy conversation. There was a tone of worry behind it, of course, but other than that they pretended nothing was happening. Occasionally Kuroo or Daishou would unclench one of Kenma's fists for him so he didn't reopen the wounds on his palms. When Kenma's breathing hitched dangerously, they would say something to him to jolt him back to reality.

Kuroo tried to make everything as normal as possible, because that was what Kenma needed: normalcy. He didn't like attention, not even from his friends. Trying to comfort him would've just made him feel worse, so they talked, letting Kenma know they were there, providing a quiet reassurance that other people failed to do.

Finally, Kuroo made another dumb joke, as he always managed to do, and Kenma let out a snort of laughter between sobs.

Slowly, Kenma began to calm down and integrate into their conversation.

He finally stopped crying. He stopped crumbling, because there was nothing left to break.

There was a pause in the conversation. No one had anything left to say.

Kenma, for the first time, filled the silence.

"I'm not anything," he said slowly, enunciating each word. "I feel like a blank slate, a baby. Something with no personality, just an abandoned house, except there isn’t moss growing on the walls and vines draping down the roof. An abandoned house with nothing characteristic about it. It's just empty. Empty and boring," he paused, gathering his thoughts. "And everyone knows it. No one sees me as a person, the only thing noteworthy about me is that I play video games all the time, that's what everyone notices," Kenma sighed. He was silent for another minute, but Kuroo could tell he wasn't done, so he remained silent.

After a while, Kenma spoke again, "I feel like an impostor. And I feel like everyone can tell. And I know it's irrational, but I feel like it's just a matter of time before someone kills me for it," he let out a pitiful laugh. "It's ridiculous. It's sad. But it's been my number one fear since I was like, eight. Whenever I see large crowds of people, I always think _'there's a higher chance that someone's going to kill you now,'_ whenever people look at me too long I think it's because they're plotting my murder," Kenma paused. "That's only on really bad days, though. On my best days, I'm just worried they're judging me. That any moment they're gonna call me out on my bullshit fabricated personality. I'm worried that people are faking liking me. That everyone's gonna get tired of me and leave. And if I'm not worried about that, it's always something else. What if my mom dies? What about my cat?" he was silent for a moment.

"IT'S ALWAYS FUCKING SOMETHING!" he screamed suddenly. His words hung in the night sky, filling the stars with pain. He hung his head and let silent tears fall into his lap.

Kuroo shared a look with Daishou, and started doing the only thing he knew how to do in situations like this: talk.

"Well if anyone tries to kill you, me and Daishou can take ‘em."

Kenma laughed sadly.

"Yeah no doubt, we're two highly trained middle schoolers," Daishou chimed in.

"Second of all, no one's going to try to kill you in the first place, because your brain is spewing bullshit."

"You need to unfriend your inner asshole because he's turning you into a mess," Daishou agreed.

"It's not that simple," Kenma shook his head.

"Yeah, I know," Kuroo admitted, sadness tinging his words. "But Kenma, you have plenty of a personality. You're funny, albeit kind of an asshole sometimes, you're smart, and you're really nice. And oh my fucking god do you know how to read people."

"Well, he obviously doesn't know how to read people that well because he thinks everyone hates him, so..." Daishou interjected.

Kuroo nodded, "Correction: you know how to read people in volleyball."

Daishou continued on, "You're a really good friend, too, Kenma. And you have a lot of notable quirks that no one else has."

"And I promise we're not gonna leave you," Kuroo said.

"Or judge you."

“Or kill you.”

Kenma looked up, turning his head towards the stars.

"Thank you," he said, smiling. It was kind of a sad smile, but it seemed happy too.

Maybe that was how the world existed. In a state that was a combination of sad and happy.  

They sat there for a while.

"I need some fucking sleep," Kenma finally said, and all three of them got up wordlessly and walked towards their houses.

They said goodnight to Kenma. Kuroo and Daishou hesitated in the street for a minute before Daishou started off towards his house and Kuroo quietly followed.

Kuroo was silent as Daishou unlocked his door. He was silent as they padded up the stairs to his room. He was silent as Daishou opened the window. He was silent as they stood there in his room, waiting.

And then he cried. He collapsed to the floor and cried and cried. Daishou crossed the room to him in two quick strides and dropped to the floor next to him. He wrapped Kuroo in an awkward hug. The feeling of Daishou's arms around him was warm against the gnawing numbness coursing through his body. He leaned his forehead against Daishou's shoulder and cried, wishing he could be silent again.

"Why am I so empty?" Kuroo choked out between sobs.

"You're not."

Kuroo let out a sad, pathetic laugh, "I don't believe you."

Daishou grabbed him by the shoulders and tilted him back.

"Look at me. Kuroo, look at me."

Kuroo lifted his head up and stared at Daishou, his eyes were serious and sad.

"You're not," he said forcefully.

"Okay," Kuroo said, wiping the tears from his face. "Okay," he repeated.

Daishou laid back on the floor.

"Sometimes you just gotta lay on the floor, y'know?"

Kuroo laughed and laid down next to him. He felt cold without Daishou's arms around him.

"C'mere," Daishou said quietly, as if reading his mind.

Kuroo moved over towards him and rested his head on his shoulder.

They started making pointless conversation and jokes. Daishou absentmindedly ran his hand through Kuroo's hair as he talked.

A comfortable silence stretched out and suddenly Kuroo felt tears leaking from his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Daishou asked, softly, sleepily.

"I don't know."

Daishou disentangled his arm from beneath Kuroo's head and grabbed his hand. He laced their fingers together and for the first time in what had been a very strange night, Kuroo felt his heart rate pick up.

"Everything's going to be okay," he said quietly.

"Promise?" Kuroo asked.

Daishou squeezed his hand. "Promise," he replied, pressing a kiss to Kuroo's temple.

Kuroo's heart was pounding in his chest, but he felt at peace. He ignored the strangeness of the situation, as it would be forgotten tomorrow.

He knew he and Daishou would pretend like this had never happened. That was how they worked. They didn't ask questions. They just lived their lives in an attempt to forget the pain they were in.

He knew whatever had transpired this night would be forgotten, but part of him didn't want to forget.

**§**  


Daishou had just started his third year of middle school when Kenma Finally™ pointed it out.

They were at volleyball practice, Kuroo was blocking some poor first years, while Kenma and Daishou were off to the side getting water.

He was staring at Kuroo, perhaps too intently, when Kenma appeared beside him.

"You're like, fucking hopelessly in love with him, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said, a bit sad, a bit wistful. "You shouldn't swear, Kenma," he teased after a beat of silence.

"You two are perfect for each other, it sickens me," Kenma replied, throwing his empty plastic cup at Daishou's face.

Daishou laughed.

"Okay but seriously?" Kenma started, "I think he loves you too."

"You think so?"

Kenma nodded, "He just hasn't realized it."

"Yeah, I guess."

"What're you gonna do?"

Daishou considered this for a moment. "Absolutely nothing."

Kenma picked the plastic cup up off the ground and threw it at him again.

Doing nothing proved to be harder than expected.

It was okay for a while, with just an occasional stray thought or impulse. His heart would quicken every time he so much as saw Kuroo, but that was nothing new. Although it was more painful and strange now that he knew the reason behind it.

It didn't become an actual Problem until Kuroo and Daishou partnered up for a science project.

The project, was of course, left to the sidelines as an excuse to hang out together.

Whenever they did actually work on it, they would always end up arguing over variables or something. Such arguing usually ended with Kuroo very close to his face and Daishou immediately forfeiting the debate (which he hated doing) and spending the next ten minutes looking anywhere but at Kuroo.

Daishou had quite a dilemma, because on one hand, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Kuroo, but on the other hand wanted to avoid him at all costs.

He went to Kenma with his problem, but Kenma merely laughed at him.

"I'll bet you this whole doing nothing thing doesn't last three weeks."

Daishou normally would've accepted the bet, but with every smile Kuroo threw his way, he was starting to lose faith in himself.

"I don't make bets I can't win," he conceded.

"Fucking knew it," Kenma laughed, "You guys will be making out in front of me by the end of the month." Kenma made a disgusted Face at the very thought and shuddered. "On second thought, never do that."

On one particularly stressful evening, Daishou started to doubt Kenma's prediction less and less.

Kuroo was ugly laughing at a joke Daishou made while Daishou grinned wildly; their project abandoned in front of them.

"You have such an ugly laugh," Daishou told Kuroo as he spun around in his swivel chair. Daishou appreciated Kuroo's hyena cackle for what it was.

"Asshole," Kuroo said, throwing a pen at him, missing.

"Let's get this done," Daishou replied, changing the subject to their not even started project, although making no move towards the pile of papers.

Kuroo frowned, "I hate physics." He sat down at his desk anyways. Daishou glided over in the swivel chair, smiling like a child as he nearly collided with Kuroo's chair.

"You're so immature."

"You're just upset because you have a lame, normal chair." Daishou stuck his tongue out.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Ya basically and so are you."

"Fuck off," Kuroo turned his attention back towards their scrapped ideas and the now crumpled assignment paper.

The project was to build something, anything, and develop a method for putting weight on it. You then had to see how much weight it could hold before breaking. You also had to build six versions of the same thing, one with one support, one with two, and so on.

"I feel like we're designing a lab for next year’s class," Daishou said.

Kuroo sighed, "I mean probably, with how lazy our teacher is," he paused. "He's also stupid as shit."

"Why?" Daishou had never perceived their science teacher to be stupid.

"Look at this." Daishou wheeled over to behind Kuroo. "There's no factor for time in the table we're supposed to make," Kuroo hesitated. "Obviously the longer the weight sits on it the weaker it gets. But he didn't factor that in." He looked over his shoulder at Daishou. Kuroo's face was centimeters from his own.

Daishou inhaled sharply, desire sparking like a match in the pit of his stomach. He was still for what seemed like an eternity.

_You should kiss me,_ he thought at Kuroo.

Suddenly remembering himself, he leaned backwards in his chair.

"Yeah, uh, that's pretty stupid," his gaze burned holes in the floor.

Kuroo frowned. "You think I'm dumb."

"Of course not."

"Yes you do."

"Kuroo," Daishou said, waiting for him to look at him, "I don't."

Daishou didn't know why it mattered so much to him. He'd stopped questioning why he was the way he was with Kuroo a long time ago. All he knew was that it mattered.

Kuroo held his gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. Daishou wanted to look away, but he didn't.

"I have an idea," Kuroo said suddenly.

"What's your idea?" Daishou was relieved by the subject change.

"It doesn't say explicitly we have to build anything. So we could just put spaghetti between stacks of books like a bridge and weights in a cup. Then just use more pieces of spaghetti as more 'supports'."

"Kuroo Tetsurou you are an absolute goddamn genius."

Kuroo beamed at him and Daishou wanted to stare at him forever.

It was about a week later when late in the evening Daishou got a text from Kuroo telling him to come to his door.

When Daishou opened his door he could tell instantly something was wrong.

Kuroo's eyes were red and his hair a bigger mess than normal. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and his entire body was shaking.

"Kuroo oh my god." Pain rose in Daishou's chest.

"Hi," Kuroo's voice was nasally and broken. "Can I come in?"

Instead of answering Daishou grabbed him by the hand and drug him up the stairs into his room.

As soon as the door to Daishou's bedroom closed, Kuroo started crying.

"Kuroo, oh my god, what's wrong?"

"I was just. Reading. And then it like," he choked down a sob, "hit me." Kuroo started pacing around Daishou's broom closet of a room. "Does it ever just hit you? I just sort of. Realized. How hopeless everything is and I can't–I can't can't can't," he faltered. "I can't fucking do it anymore," Kuroo finally managed. "I'm so–I'm so tired. Every–everything feels so hopeless. I mean I've been like this for _years_ and there's never been a glimmer of hope. Sure I can–I can forget about it but as soon as I'm not distracted everything just gets hopeless all over again. I just want it to be. Over. I want to stop feeling like this, I don't want to be empty anymore, I want to be _real._ And I just _hate myself,_ like I barely ever realize it but I'm so fucking _sick_ of myself and everyone else must be too," Kuroo panted, breathless from his tanget. He stopped pacing and sat down on Daishou's bed. Daishou sat down next to him.

"Tetsurou. I promise things will get better. And besides, there's going to be bad times, but it will be broken up by good things, that's how it is now. I know it seems like it's one constant stream of bad with good illusions thrown in, but you could also say it's a constant stream of good with bad illusions thrown in. Life is both good and bad, and it's not black and white."

Kuroo collapsed against him, head resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"And you're amazing. I could never be sick of you," Daishou practically whispered it, but Kuroo hummed happily which meant he had heard him.

Daishou was getting uncomfortable sitting there with Kuroo leaning against him and practically shoving him off the bed, so he shifted them until they were laying down.

It wasn't until afterwards did he realize what he had done.

Kuroo's back was pressed against his chest and his hair was in his face. He was, in fact, practically cuddling with Kuroo Tetsurou.

He went still.

_You dumb Fucking fuck. This is the exact Opposite of doing nothing._

"This feels like last year. After the park," Kuroo mumbled.

   Daishou relaxed a little at that. He slung an arm over Kuroo's waist and ran a hand through his hair.

_What the fuck are you doing?_ his head was screaming, he didn't care.

"Yeah?" Daishou asked.

"Yeah."

Something stupid and crazy drove Daishou to kiss Kuroo's temple for the second time in his life.

"I remember that."

"Yeah? What about this?" He kissed Kuroo's jaw. Daishou had lost entire control over his brain, he was standing somewhere in the back, screaming at himself, but the controls were no longer his.

Kuroo made a choking noise and Daishou considered apologizing, but discarded the idea in favor of kissing his cheek.

While he was considering what to do next, Kuroo turned around on the bed, still laying on his side but now facing Daishou, then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to meet his own lips.

Daishou went rigid with anxiety and Kuroo didn't seem to be in much better shape, but _holy fuck_ he was kissing him. He forced his body to relax and instinct took over from there.

It was all a blur after that; the feeling of Kuroo's hands in his hair, on his back, cupping his face; the sensation of his lips working feverishly against Daishou's own, as if trying to make up for lost time.

All in all the kiss was soft and hurried, but Daishou still felt like he was having a heart attack.

After Kuroo pulled away, he stared into Daishou's eyes for a long time. An uncomfortable amount of time, even. Daishou didn't mind, though, Kuroo had pretty eyes.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Daishou blurted out suddenly. Where, oh where had his impulse control gone.

It was worth the embarrassment to see the blush rising on Kuroo's face.

Daishou, of course, laughed at him.

"Shut the fuck up," Kuroo practically squeaked. "I wanted to do it for about three seconds before I actually did it," he said after a moment of silence.

Daishou scoffed. "Figures."

Kuroo squawked indignantly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Daishou just cackled and Kuroo glared at him.

After he stopped laughing he realized Kuroo was further away from him than he liked.

"Come snuggle me you asshole," Daishou teased.

"No, I'm mad at you."

"No you're not."

"No I'm not," Kuroo said, grin breaking through on his face as he scooted across the bed towards Daishou.

Kuroo laid his head down next to Daishou's; his face barely an inch from his own. “Hi,” Daishou said.

"Hi," Kuroo parroted, a smile lighting up his eyes. Daishou felt an almost painful warmth in his chest at the sight of Kuroo happy.

Daishou moved closer to Kuroo and buried his grinning face in Kuroo's neck. Kuroo froze for a moment, but relaxed and brought his hand up to Daishou's hair. Daishou traced patterns on Kuroo's back with his fingers.

Kuroo scrunched his nose. "That tickles."

"Too bad," Daishou replied.

They sat there in happy silence for a few minutes.

After a while Kuroo started to cry again.

"Kuroo," Daishou said pulling away to look at him, "what's wrong?" He was surprised by the softness of his own voice.

"People can't fix everything," Kuroo smiled sadly. "You can't fix everything, Suguru."

_I can fucking try,_ Daishou thought. He knew Kuroo was right, though.

"I know."

Kuroo choked back a sob.

"Shhh. No, don't cry," Daishou mumbled, absentmindedly wiping the tears from Kuroo's face. "No more tears today, okay?"

"Okay," Kuroo smiled at him, unknowable amounts of pain behind it. Kuroo's eyes fluttered shut as Daishou pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then to his nose, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth, his neck.

Kuroo hummed happily and pulled Daishou closer to him.

"I think I love you," Daishou murmured into Kuroo's neck.

"I think I feel the same," Kuroo said without hesitation. Daishou grinned, and he knew Kuroo was grinning too.

They fell asleep like that. Happy. Entangled. Content.

Whatever they had lasted the rest of the school year and most of the summer before it went to shit.

Daishou's foster parents sat him down and 'explained' to him, in no uncertain terms, that they didn't have 'room in their life' for him. Daishou was enraged. He was angry, pissed off, he wanted to break something, someone.   

"You had fucking _room_ for almost two fucking years!" he shouted.

"Please try to understand."

"I understand plenty. You got sick of me," he laughed, "It's fine, happens all the time. Couldn't you have done it sooner, though? Before I actually thought you guys might be my _family?_ Before I made a fucking life here?" Daishou was practically screaming now.

His ex-foster parents remained silent.

"What a bunch of assholes," he snarled at them.

"They'll be here tomorrow morning to take you back to the group home."

"Whatever," he snapped, "I don't wanna hear another goddamn word from you sick fucks."

He pounded up the stairs into his room and retrieved the old, faithful, fifty gallon garbage bag from underneath his bed. He'd had the same garbage bag for two years, and before that, there was a different one. Daishou had never been without a garbage bag. It was kind of sad. He pulled the old cardboard box out from underneath his bed as well. He had all but forgotten about them, but he kept them because he knew. He knew that this family would get sick of him, just like the last. Whether it be two days or two years, they always did.

Kuroo would leave him, too. He didn't want to have to deal with that. So he wouldn't. He would let the social workers take him to the group home and let Kuroo and Kenma find out on their own time.

He stuffed his clothes into his bag, put the rest of his belongings in the box, and went to sleep, waiting for morning.

At seven in the morning, far before his friends were up, he got into the car outside what had been his house for the past two years, and left their lives.

It was ten when he got a text.

**10:06] from tetsurou <3:** im coming over lol

**10:10] from tetsurou <3:** suguru what the fuck

**10:10] from tetsurou <3:** daishou what the actual genuine fuck

**10:15] incoming call from tetsurou <3**

Daishou answered.

"Suguru? Oh my god what's going on?" Daishou could tell Kuroo had been crying, his breathing was ragged, his voice was shaky.

"They got tired of me," Daishou summarized simply, letting his own tears fall as well.

"Why didn't you fucking call me!?"

"Because I'm leaving, Kuroo. I'm gone. Let me be gone."

"No. Nononononononono. Daishou. No. What the fuck are you thinking? We'll be okay. You can't do this."

"Everything goes to shit eventually."

"Not us," Kuroo whispered.

"Just fucking let it go, Tetsurou. Forget about me, please just fucking do that."

"I can't. Why are you doing this?"

Daishou didn't answer, "Let it go, Kuroo," he said instead.

Kuroo's response was cut off when Daishou hit the end call button with too much force.

He laid back on the scratchy, group home bed, an ache in his chest. His phone buzzed with another call, but he declined it. Part of him wanted to block Kuroo from his phone, but he knew he wouldn't. Instead, he put his phone on do not disturb, and went to sleep.

When he woke up three hours later, he checked his phone against his will.

There was 57 missed texts from Kuroo and eight missed calls. At the very top was a single text from Kenma.

**12:48] from kenma:** you promised you wouldn't leave.

That stung Daishou to his very core.

He scrolled through the messages from Kuroo until he reached the end.

**11:16] from tetsurou <3:** i love you

**12:28] from tetsurou <3:** fine

**12:28] from tetsurou <3:** whatever

**12:29] from tetsurou <3:** you're an asshole

**12:29] from tetsurou <3:** i don't think you ever cared about me but fucking whatever. you could've just been upfront about it.

**12:34] from tetsurou <3:** im done with you  

Daishou felt like he was going to vomit. He was sick and sad.

He went back to sleep.

Daishou lived in the group home for the remaining month of summer.

"There's a couple that's going to take you in," his social worker told him. It was the last week of summer and Daishou had never felt more like dying in his life. "They're looking to adopt," he continued.

"Not me," Daishou scoffed.

"You never know."

That night Daishou put his things into his garbage bag and box. Early in the afternoon, his social worker drove him to the couple's house. The two women were waiting on the front steps of their, frankly very nice, house.

With all the smiling and kindness they greeted him with, part of Daishou hoped. Another part of him knew it was unwise to.

They adopted him. He was happy and grateful, but he still didn't want to hope.

"You should dye your hair," Ichiko suddenly said one day.

Daishou looked up from his book, "Why?"

"You know, new start and all. You should do it."

For the first time since he left Kuroo, Daishou felt himself smiling, for real. The genuine grin on his face eased some of the tension and anger that was constantly swirling in his body.

"I might," he replied, actually considering the idea.

And he actually did. He dyed his hair green, and he felt truly hopeful, for the first time in a while.

"It looks good," Kana told him, while Ichiko beamed at him from beside her.

A genuine smile took over his face, but he felt an ache in his chest, an empty place. A slot where someone had used to fit.

Kuroo hadn't texted or called him again after that day. Part of Daishou hoped he would, part of him was angry that he hadn't.

He and Kuroo went to school in the same district, so Daishou saw him at volleyball matches all the time.

Whenever Kuroo looked at him, there was an immense anger towards him that hadn't been there before, and it stung. It hurt to know someone who used to love him held so much hatred for him now.

Daishou did the only thing he knew how to do; he lashed out. He argued with Kuroo more than ever, he snapped and glared, except this time it was genuine, not just childish jokes. This was all of their pain, all grown up.

Daishou didn't want to admit it to himself, but arguing during matches with Kuroo made him feel something like nostalgia. It was the memory of a good feeling, tinted with pain.

Daishou missed Kuroo. He didn't like that fact, but he did. He missed talking with him, laughing with him. He missed kissing him.

He missed everything, he wanted to go back. Wanted desperately to fix him and Kuroo, but he couldn't.

Daishou realized somewhere along the way that he still loved Kuroo. He shoved that knowledge down deep and forced himself to get over it.

He couldn't get over it.

He wondered if Kuroo had.

He was eighteen and in college when the call appeared on his phone.

**1:57] incoming call from tetsurou <3**

It took a moment for Daishou to process the wrongness of what was on his screen. Kuroo would never _ever_ call him. He must've done it by accident.

Daishou answered anyways.

"Tetsurou?"

"Daishou, I need you," his voice was the same as the last phone call Daishou had had with him. He knew he'd been crying.

"Kuroo what's wrong?" Daishou had somehow reverted to his middle school self, as though acting like this wasn't a dangerous tightrope.

But it was hard for Daishou to pretend he didn't love Kuroo, because he'd never stopped.

"I don't know, I don't know. Please just," Kuroo took a shaky inhale, "come get me. Please."

Daishou didn't even hesitate. "Where are you?"

Kuroo laughed pitifully. "I'm at the park. By the koi."

"I'll be there in like forty-five minutes."

"Thank you, Suguru."

Daishou ended the call and got in his car. He easily found his old, quiet, suburban neighborhood, that he held so much hatred for. He parked his car right in front of his old foster family's house, just out of spite, and practically ran to the park.

It was dark, and the streetlamps were dim, but he still easily spotted Kuroo sitting on the ground by the pond.

The tears that were falling down his face shone in the dim light as he looked back at Daishou.

As Daishou sat down beside him, Kuroo grabbed his hand.

They sat in silence for a long, long time.

"I missed you," Daishou said softly.

"I missed you too."

They were silent for a while longer when Kuroo leaned against Daishou.

Daishou felt young again suddenly. Young and bold and happy.

"I'm not going to ask questions about anything. I won't ask what happened between us, I won't pretend I know. I'm not going to ask you what you're feeling, I'm just going to tell you what I am," Daishou said in a rush. "I never stopped loving you. I just got angry and scared so I left. I still love you. I still care about you. And I know you're angry with me, but it's been four years, so I'm hoping you can forgive," Daishou inhaled sharply. "Because I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I did and what I didn't do. But oh my fucking god I missed you so much. And you left an empty space in my chest when you left. I've always wanted to go back, but now I'm hoping we can just move forwards," Daishou stared out at the pond, waiting.

Kuroo said nothing for a while.

"Way to take my existential crisis and make it about you, Daishou."

Daishou felt his heart fall but then looked at Kuroo's face. He was grinning, there was a wild, youthful look in his eyes.

"I found this," Kuroo said, shoving a piece of paper into Daishou's hand.

Daishou carefully uncrumpled it and realized almost instantaneously what it was.

"This is the instructions to our third year project," Daishou said in pure shock.

"I found it under my bed. It may or may not have been what caused me to cry for three hours and then call you."

Daishou grinned at him but said nothing.

"I forgave you a long time ago, Daishou, I just never forgave myself. After you left I realized that people may not fix everything, but they sure fucking help. I was mad at you, because you left me. Because you didn't try. But as time went on I got mad at myself for not trying _more_. And then I found that," he nodded towards the paper, "and I got so frustrated, I had to do something. So I called. Either you'd scream in my ear and hang up, or you'd actually come. I missed you so much, Suguru. I loved you and you left and I still love you and you came back," Kuroo was crying but was smiling, too. "Let's not ask each other where we came from, though. We should just move on. Together, hopefully," Kuroo continued crying and Daishou wrapped an arm around him.

"I love you, Tetsurou."

"I love you too."

They sat there, in the dark, talking, existing as a mixture between happy and sad. Both of them with haunting pasts and uncertain futures. Both of them with all sorts of tragic reasons as to why they might not be considered 'real'.

But there, in the dark, they kissed, like real people do.

**end.**

**Author's Note:**

> idk what im doin w this fic tbh,,,,,,
> 
> my tumblr is [nekcoma](http://nekcoma.tumblr.com/)
> 
> please kudos/comment if you enjoyed!!


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